


lovers' laurel

by mad_marquise



Category: Chicago PD (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Ficlet, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-20 17:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18129854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_marquise/pseuds/mad_marquise
Summary: Antonio had sworn to himself long ago that he would never end up like Hank Voight.





	lovers' laurel

Killing him is completely unnecessary.

The perp is cornered in a shed. He lies prone on the ground covered in sweat and grime. He's in hysterics, wide-eyed and holding his shaking hands up by his face because Hank and Antonio have their guns aimed at his forehead. He's ready to be booked, yet neither cop can find it in himself to move.

Were Hank working solo, Antonio knows he would've wasted the guy already. He's only waiting for Antonio's sake. Antonio, who had sworn to himself long ago that he would never go down this path, never give into such impulse, never end up like Hank Voight.

Hank looks at Antonio and says, "What have you got to lose?"  
  
Antonio keeps staring down the perp.

It's not a question of Hank's rep. No one's gonna bat an eyelash if Chicago's dirtiest cop puts a bullet in a child molester.  
  
What _does_ Antonio have to lose?

He feels Hank's gaze on him as he thinks.  
  
His family?

It's half-broken already. Laura's got him jammed up in custody battles. His kids are on a rental basis with him like fucking Blockbuster movies.  
  
His job?

Hank wouldn't let that happen. What he couldn't fix with his slick tongue, he'd take care of with sheer bullheadedness.  
  
His sanity?

That left a long time ago.  
  
Nothing to lose.

Nothing to gain but blood on his hands.

Hank's thirsty for it.

Maybe Antonio is, too.  
  
"The perks of this job are few and far between," Antonio murmurs. He sees Hank grin out of the corner of his eye, a snake's smile.  
  
"On the count?" Hank prompts, voice pitched low. "One..."  
  
"Two..." The word is copper in Antonio's mouth, sharp, bitter. His heart's racing.

His finger tightens on the trigger.

The perp's openly weeping now, but it's not a deterrent.  
  
"Three," they say in unison, and fire.

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

“I know I said I needed you clean,” Hank mumbles hot against Antonio's mouth. “I lied.”

Antonio clutches him, thinks, _Maybe blood wasn't all I had to gain._

 

 

  
  


When they give report to Crowley, explain to her how _the offender got the jump on us, Commander, we had no choice but to use lethal force_ \-- she commends them.  

Antonio feels drunk and numb.

It's a good feeling.  
  
He looks at Hank's cold face, and he wants nothing more than to pin him down in bed and keep him there forever.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and critique very much welcome. thanks for reading.


End file.
